


i'll take my chances on the curb here with you

by karnsteins



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha drop, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny Still Dies, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnsteins/pseuds/karnsteins
Summary: in one universe, steve is the one who picks up the phone. he hands it to darry, and they are late by seconds to find dallas. they see him gutted with bullets, and he dies without a word.in another universe, steve picks up the phone again. he hands it to darry. they are late, but dallas dies, saying ponyboy's name, dying on the pavement before them.in a third universe, it is ponyboy who picks up the phone. dallas breathes out his name, and every single part of ponyboy flares to life as dallas says, "darry?"an alternate ending (with some abo dynamics thrown in for spice.)
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis & Dallas Winston
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. i hear you calling in the dead of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in one universe, steve is the one who picks up the phone. he hands it to darry, and they are late by seconds to find dallas. they see him gutted with bullets, and he dies without a word. 
> 
> in another universe, steve picks up the phone again. he hands it to darry. they are late, but dallas dies, saying ponyboy's name, dying on the pavement before them. 
> 
> in a third universe, it is ponyboy who picks up the phone. dallas breathes out his name, and every single part of ponyboy flares to life as dallas says, "darry?"

in one universe, steve is the one who picks up the phone. he hands it to darry, and they are late by seconds to find dallas. they see him gutted with bullets, and he dies without a word. 

in another universe, steve picks up the phone again. he hands it to darry. they are late, but dallas dies, saying ponyboy's name, dying on the pavement before them. 

in a third universe, it is ponyboy who picks up the phone. dallas breathes out his name, and every single part of ponyboy flares to life as dallas says, "darry?" 

his fingers grip the phone tightly, still aching, still unable to accept that johnny is dead. "dallas? dallas, where are you—"

"where's darry? i need to speak to him," dallas' voice is rough, worn as much as ponyboy feels. then and there he understands: dallas is in trouble. 

"where are you, what's going on?" that anxiety that dallas had before in the car is in ponyboy now, just as upset, just as concerned. "dally, what is-- " 

"i knocked off a store," the words are desperate, "cops are after me just— just get your brothers okay, and meet me in the park?"

dread fills ponyboy. he knows what cops mean, he knows what'll happen, that dallas still has a heater on him. "we'll be there, promise." 

he says we. he means himself, hanging up the phone. two-bit looks up at him in alarm, as he barrels out the door saying, "the park, we gotta get to the park!" then he's down the steps, despite the aches, despite the pains from the rumble, from the entire week, he's running with everything he has to get there first. 

out of everyone else, he's the fastest. the one who ran track, the one who couldn't be caught unless he wanted to. no matter how his body will protest later, ponyboy pushes and pushes, forces it to obey him. for all the betrayal he felt when he'd presented months before, for all the hurt he'd gone through in the past few days, he relied on his body to do this one thing, to do this one favor above all things.

on a normal night, maybe dallas would be arrested. this night isn't normal; it doesn't feel as if ponyboy is in the same reality as he had been when he'd woken up that morning. everything feels unreal, and something in him tells him that if he doesn't catch up with dallas, if he doesn't get him out of there, he won't survive. johnny dying (please, please) severed something in ponyboy that already felt vitally important, and the way dallas had run out of the hospital room…

maybe it had severed something in him too. maybe dallas had finally found a loss that could affect him enough and maybe, maybe he would die now, too and the possibility of it leaves ponyboy in a panic, needing that out of everything no one else could die. even if it was all for nothing, he needed to know that dallas was going to be safe, that he wouldn't die tonight on a night like this one.

dallas couldn't die. he wouldn't let him die. the thoughts run around in his head, over and over, his lungs burn, his legs ache as he goes flying down the streets. dallas couldn't die, he wouldn't let him die. 

when the hill of the park comes into view, he can see the dark figure racing down it. the sound of sirens isn't far behind. the last bit of ponyboy's will pushes him faster, harder. he slams into dallas' body, fumbling to keep a grip on him. it hurts them both of them, the impact— dallas is groaning, ponyboy is sure that he'll never get as much air as he needs to back in his lungs ever again—it takes the last ounce in him to be able to drag dallas to the bushes, to roll them over in it. the ground still smells like fresh rain, there's still mud there that can only soften the blow of being pushed so hard against it. he pins dallas beneath him, curling on him as the cops finally reach the street. 

a part of him, still firmly rooted in reality thought that this was too much. that he had pinned dallas, bigger than him, broader than him, on a wet ground. he was shaking with the force of it, his legs were burning so badly that it would be a miracle to stand again, his chest hurt, and his body felt as if it was being held together with toothpicks and gum. the rest of him, that part of him terrified that dallas would die and not accepting that johnny was truly dead, didn't let up. even with dallas' gasping beneath him, with his hand tight on ponyboy's hip and shoulder, knew he had to do this. 

"don't," ponyboy gasps out, "don't talk. the-they can't s-see us." he looks at dallas' face finally. sees that his eyes are as wide as they can get for dallas, that his hair is sticking to his side and a fresh scent washes over him: the smell of blood. fresh blood. his eyes rove over dallas' face, down his neck, and he shifts. he feels it then: the blood from dallas' side. it wets the knee ponyboy has on the side of him. 

he shakes worse than ever. 

dallas pants, wordless. they both can hear the cops getting out of their cars, shouting directions at each other. dallas' hand reaches up, presses his hand over ponyboy's mouth to keep him quiet. ponyboy screws his eyes shut, his own hand pressing down on dallas' own mouth. they're both still breathing hard, still trying to adjust. they stay like that, ponyboy's body screaming in pain, waiting for the cops to finally finish their search. 

just trying to focus on anything else makes ponyboy sick, makes his stomach roil uncomfortably. his shaking isn't getting any better, the smell of blood and pheromones from dallas--still high, still jacked from the rumble--are liable to make him feel sicker. he thinks that his hands are starting to claw into dallas' cheek from the force of keeping them both quiet, a contrast to how careful dallas is keeping his hands on ponyboy's mouth. 

then, the car lights go on. ponyboy hunkers lower over dallas, trying to shield him with his much smaller body. they pull out one by one, until the only lights in the darkness are the ones from the streetlight. 

slowly, he takes his hand away from dallas' mouth, dallas following with his own hand. they both lock eyes, breathing still heavy, thick. ponyboy opens his mouth to speak. dallas speaks first, voice low, "what the fuck did you do that for, kid?" 

"i-i had to," ponyboy chokes out, dallas shifting to sit up now, his own bruised face barely able to be seen in the darkness. "i couldn't— i couldn't— not you too, dallas." 

"i wasn't going to die," dallas says the words and for once, ponyboy shoves him back. that's a lie. something in him, in the slow way dallas says them, he knows it's a lie. ponyboy shoves him again, harder, shaking his head. 

on another night, dallas would have belted him across the face. he would have shoved ponyboy back so hard the wind would knock right out of him. not this time, he just allows ponyboy to shove him; it's all the confirmation pony needs. "you were, you fucking— not like johnny, please--"

dallas grips him by the shirt; for a moment, ponyboy thinks he will rear back, that he'll punch him despite everything. instead, he's dragged forward violently into dallas. his arms wrap around him, crushing pony against him. there's no struggle from ponyboy in that moment. just an acceptance that dallas is burying his face against his shoulder and neck, "i can't fucking- johnny, man. i don't know, how—"

ponyboy shudders, still not ready to accept it. accept that johnny had just looked dead and dallas had wanted to be dead. his arms wrap tightly around dallas in response. for the first time in his life, ever since he presented, he decides to try and reach out to dallas in a way he never wanted to. he'd always been told that omegas could calm others down, had felt soda do it for him a time or two. he's never exactly known how, yet as dallas begins to mumble, as he begins to rock, he tries to calm down dallas the way he'd felt soda do. runs his still wet fingers through dallas' hair, tries to use the pheromones as best he could do calm dallas down, to pull him back from the edge. 

he doesn't rightly know how. dallas isn't like other alpha's he's met before, always wilder, angrier, worse in all the ways that people talked about them. ponyboy didn't want to be an omega, had blamed being one for everything that had happened to them. now, as dallas presses himself so crushingly close to him, he tries his best to force his body to obey him the way it had minutes before. 

dallas still shakes. he still sinks his fingers too tightly against ponyboy's body. the darkness seems to shift--colors begin to run and as he feels himself start to drift, there's only one thought that matters: dallas is alive. dallas is alive. 

he thinks he hears sodapop at the edge of his hearing. it doesn't matter; darkness comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments, kudos, come holler at me over at @madeleinepryor on tumblr!


	2. pull me back from things divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's no way that ponyboy could have known that dallas was thinking of him as he'd run so desperately into the darkness. dallas knows that ponyboy wouldn't have ever known. it feels like a sick, startling joke that the person he was thinking of, the last person he thought he'd ever think of had been the one to pull him into the darkness to save him.

there's no way that ponyboy could have known that dallas was thinking of him as he'd run so desperately into the darkness. dallas knows that ponyboy wouldn't have ever known. it feels like a sick, startling joke that the person he was thinking of, the last person he thought he'd ever think of had been the one to pull him into the darkness to save him. 

he doesn't have the guts to fully tell ponyboy what he had thought of doing if he'd been caught or that the thought of seeing the world break ponyboy beneath it's boot had been a reason why he'd wanted to go through with it, that he meant every word he'd said in the car: that ponyboy had to toughen up, become like him. because the alternative was johnny now, dead and cold. 

he almost wishes it had been like that. it was almost worse, now that he had survived because now ponyboy was the singular thread he had left. the gang was there, they always would be, but they were all tough, hardened in some way. they all had been in ways that dallas understood. ponyboy wasn't like any of them, including johnny. he would always make it, always get out of there. he was tough in a way that seemed better, in a way that didn't compromise him, in a way that dallas almost admired. 

now, though, he was sick. ever since darry and the rest had found them, he had closed his eyes, shaking, still trying to protect dallas. and he hadn't opened his eyes longer than a few minutes since then. 

before his parents had died, ponyboy had been an okay kid, always getting that yearly cold. after they had died, his body hadn't been the same. he'd catch colds, he'd seem to always fighting off something. even after he presented, it seemed he didn't do well, and now… 

he'd been shoved into a fountain, survived a fire, gone through a rumble. dallas had seen that soc kick ponyboy in the head, had seen soda jump all over him. he'd run so fast and so hard from the house that he'd been shaking when he'd guarded dallas, and now he was paying for it.

he was paying for it because of _dallas_. he was in bed, begging for his parents, for darry, for soda, and him. and he'd been the one who'd let this happen. 

he didn't care about his stitched side, didn't care about the fact that buck had more or less kicked him out of the small room he had. all he cared about as the days dragged on was ponyboy, if ponyboy would be okay, if ponyboy would live. he'd already failed johnny, and all dallas had left was ponyboy. the one person he wanted to protect, the last person he had in his power to help was ponyboy. 

"i'm going out for work," soda's fingers are still shaking a bit as he buttons up his shirt. he's still bruised as hell, only three days out from the rumble. he looks at dallas in a way that he thinks is pitying; he doesn't care about it, nodding mechanically from his position in the kitchen. "you got everything you think you need, dal?" 

"yeah," he sets the bowl beneath the sink, running the cold water into it. "just needs some more soup is all." 

soda nods, hesitates for a moment. "you sure you don't—"

he shakes his head. he doesn't want to hear the words again: _do you want help with your drop?_

it's not as if soda can't give it if he wanted to. alpha drops aren't unfamiliar to anyone in this neighborhood, with alphas on every block, prowling everywhere. everyone had experienced one at one point or another, the feeling of shame, anger, depression. unable to crawl out of your own head, spiraling downwards until the drop was resolved with help from omega or just time. 

he thinks ponyboy was trying to help him avoid that in the park. trying to soothe him, and it feels like something no one can really help him with, not even soda. so soda nods, says, "i'll be back around lunch, dal. just call, if he wakes, okay?" 

dallas nods jerkily, turns off the faucet. soda heads out, door slamming. dallas is ready to take on the vigil he's done since his side was stitched up: trying to help ponyboy out of the persistent fever, out of the delirious dreams that have kept him under. he looks washed out with the peroxide blonde hair, small in the bed before him. for the past few days, he hasn't looked much different, only truly changed when flushed with fever. 

the towels he keeps cold, pressing them onto pony's face as much as he could. tending to people has never been dallas' strong suite. the only person he's used to caring about in this way, in the bare minimum, has always been himself. he mattered most to himself and no one else. that had changed now, in horrifying ways. 

ponyboy's skin is still too warm to the touch, skin a little too pale beneath the array of bruises. when dallas wipes at his forehead, he stirs, in that usual, delirious way he's had in the past few days, "darry?" 

"no, kid," dallas replies, despite the fact that ponyboy certainly wasn't coherent, yet at a loss for anything else to do but talk back, "it's dal."

the eye that ponyboy fixes on him seems clearer than before. "dally? y-you're alive?" hope makes his voice crack from the effort. 

the hope cracks something in dallas' chest, too. he gives ponyboy what feels like a ghost of a smile. "yeah. your stupid ass saved me," he rubs pony's back and the kid has the nerve to smile back. "do me a favor, though."

"yeah?" 

"don't do that shit ever again," dallas tugs teasingly at pony's hair. 

"only if you don't," ponyboy slurs back, tired already. "lay off m'hair. s'shitty." he shuts his eyes again. "thirsty."

quick as he can, dallas darts out, and comes back with the water. it takes effort to get ponyboy up, and then for him to drink the water. it works though, ponyboy drinking almost the entire glass. 

then dallas gently eases him back to the bed, ponyboy's voice quiet, "is… is johnny still—" 

"yeah," dallas keeps his voice steady, "he is." 

"you won't—" pony's fingers unexpectedly dig themselves into dallas' undershirt, grip as tight on him as they were to make dallas quiet three nights before, "you won't try to die again, dal?" there's panic there and it's earned. 

dallas does the best he can. "no, man. i won't. i swear," there's still anger, loathing at himself. that ponyboy would be this worried. it bothers dallas more than he wants to think about as ponyboy's face scrunches up, tired and sick. "i mean it." 

his grip relaxes, loosens and finally he's back on the bed. dallas should get up, go, yet feels strangely pinned there, suddenly unsure of where he was meant to be. 

there's a tug. he looks down at pony's hand, tugging at his shirt. "you look like hell dal. you oughta sleep too." 

dallas thinks about protesting, shoving pony in denial. he let's it go, and instead, lies down beside ponyboy, on top of the blankets. 

there's more here between them, in this little bed. more to talk about, more to pick apart. dallas is too exhausted and relieved and even if he could have talked, ponyboy is asleep in seconds. 

dallas joins him, in mere minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments, kudos, come holler at me over at @madeleinepryor on tumblr!


End file.
